


One More Night

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Kissing, M/M, Schmoop, Wincest - Freeform, mentions of fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boys fight.  Sam sings.  Boys in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Night

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Apparently I have nothing to do with the show or WB/CW beyond my imagination. Oh, to dream.
> 
> AN 1: So, I had a thought of Sam and cursed karaoke, rattling around for months. And then this happened. IDEK. Pretty self conscious of this piece.
> 
> AN 2: Thanks to my beta, deansdirtybb for support and constant encouragement! Hugs to you, bb!

“Another.”  Sam licked his lips, slamming the shot glass down on the counter and motioning to the bartender.  “Keep ‘em coming.”

Drinking hard wasn’t like Sam.  In fact, it was entirely too much like the big brother he was currently pissed off at and trying to drown out of his head.

“Fucking Dean.”  Sam swallowed the shot, and waved again for a refill.  “Just leave the bottle.” 

The bartender sighed and did as directed.  It was gonna be a long night; big tall moose, trying to drink something off his mind.  He’d noticed the bruising cheek and bleeding cuts across the guy’s knuckles.  His clothes were disheveled, his manner one of _this close_ to blowing another valve.  He’d obviously been in a fight.

“Hey buddy, why don’t you try singing out your frustration?  Karaoke comes on in about a half hour.”  Singing here in the bar tended to alleviate a lot of emotion for folks, dissipating negative energy.  He was pretty sure the DJ had something to do with that, the karaoke always seemed to almost put a spell on people once it got started.   

“Yeah, don’t think that’ll help, barkeep, but thanks.”  Taking another shot, Sam glanced around to see the DJ setting up the stage and mounted TVs for tonight’s entertainment.  He spotted the microphone and was surprised at his intrigue.  It was shiny.  Silver, wireless, and somehow Sam could picture himself on the small stage.

Shaking his head to clear that thought out, he took another shot and then ducked into the men’s room.  Man, he was a mess.  He washed his hands and swiped at his face, running some water through his hair with his fingers to freshen up.  Removing his jacket he noticed his plaid button-up had blood all over it.  _Nice._   No wonder the bartender had looked worried.  He removed the over shirt, which left him with just a heathered gray cotton  V-neck.  Well, it was a bar, so he’d still fit in just fine, even if the shirt was a little comfort fitting from his usual style. 

Dean was probably still in the motel.  Knocked out, where Sam had left him.  Hopefully.  They got like this sometimes.  The normal friction, that whole big brother versus little brother attitude.  Then the friction between them as lovers too.  Normal relationship stuff.  _Normal._   Ha.  They always solved it Winchester style, which meant trading barbs and being as irritating as they could to each other for days.  Then smaller physical stuff, knocking each other’s shoulders, training a little too hard, hunting a little cocky.  Then came the yelling.  Which led to full out assault on each other. 

Half the time that ended up in some amazing fucking, their way of make-up sex.  But the other half of the time, it was a battle royale.  Last one standing wins.  Tonight Sam had won that battle. 

He couldn’t even tell you where the fight had stemmed from.  Weeks of build-up in little things at Dean, at the hunts they’d been on, the constant weary road traveling, the crappy diners, the kitschy motels.  The usual life, no different than he’s ever known.  Yet something had burrowed under his skin.

Pulling himself back together, and getting ready to head back to the bar, Sam gave himself one last glance.  Maybe it was just this thing with Dean.  This undefined push and pull, give and take, love and fight they did.  They were so fucking dysfunctional.  Codependent.  All about self-preservation except when it came to each other.  Would give up their very lives for each other.  So why did they fight like opposing sides of the grandest battle on earth?

During the heat of their argument, Dean had suggested they call it off.  Again.  He’d done that before.   So had Sam, a time or two.  And while Sam had to agree that it always sounded like a great idea while kicking each other’s ass, he could not wrap his mind around it now.  Just because they argued?  Wasn’t that normal?  Half the time it was like foreplay.  He loved Dean.   

_Shit_ .  As he walked back to his favorite spot, always the end of the bar so he could see the entrance, he stopped.  _He was in love with Dean_.  And didn’t that just change every fucking thing. 

He sat down heavily on his barstool, eyeing the stage again, his eyes drifting over the now very shiny, glittery microphone.

No.  He was _not_ doing karaoke.  Not unless he got drunk off his ass again, because Dean-

Dean wasn’t there though.   And Sam wasn’t drunk.  And he wasn’t a little emo bitch who loved to cavort onstage and pour his heart out, no matter what Dean said. 

Sam quickly downed a couple more shots, earning an odd look from the bartender.  “Sorry, just um, something on my mind.  Promise I won’t drive home.”

“Damn straight you ain’t driving my Baby home.” 

Whirling around and then falling off the barstool onto his ass, Sam squeaked out, “Dean?”

“Giving me a TKO wasn’t gonna stop me from finding you, ya know.”

“Dean, look, I’m…I’m sorry.  Well, not really sorry.  It’s just.  Well.  You know the drill.”  Sam kept his head down, not wanting to meet Dean’s gaze.

“Yeah, bitch, I do.  Need a hand up?”  And Dean reached out a hand to pull Sam up, only to find Sam launching himself into Dean’s chest, almost toppling them both over.  “Easy, Sasquatch.  How much have you had?”  Dean cocked an eyebrow at the bartender, who nodded to the bottle still on the counter.

_Great,_ Dean thought _._   _Sam’s gonna be a handful, always is when he drinks like that_.

“Beer for us both, please – take the bottle back.”  Dean helped Sam back onto his barstool, catching note of the way Sam had fixed his gaze upon a small square stage, looking like it was set up for karaoke.  _OH_.  This could actually turn out to be a lot of fun. 

“So, uh, Sam.  Wanna tell me what caused our rumble tonight?  And why you left me, taking the car with no note or a text or anything?”

“Dunno Dean.  Just seemed like it was the right thing to do.  We fight, it’s like, like, well, it’s what we do.  All we do.  And you started it.  Poking me in the chest and being all big brother knows best.”  Sam shook his head at Dean, carefully trying not to let the alcohol in his system get the better of him, and losing.

“Mmhm.  It’s not all we do, little brother.  Don’t you like the after?”  And Dean leaned in to kiss Sam’s very soft pouty lips, nibbling and licking along the corner when Sam tried to turn his head away.  Dean caught his jaw, holding it steady, challenging Sam to look him in the eye. 

Something was welling up inside of Sam, and it wasn’t anger this time.  He wasn’t gonna be able to control it, and found himself wanting to just spout it all out, still finding a way somehow to hold it back.  Hazel met emerald eyes.  “Dean?!?  How fucked up is this?  Why can’t we just be normal?  Why do we have to fight?  What are we proving to each other?”

Dean pulled back just a tiny bit, smile playing along his eyes.  He could see a struggle in Sam.  Emo Princess was about to erupt.  Sam was drunk, he was completely emotionally charged, and apparently the fight tonight hadn’t released all his frustration at whatever slight he was feeling. 

Dean loved when Sam sang karaoke.  Because for all Sam was the “sharing and caring” brother, he still would hold his deepest feelings in tight, and no one ever got access there.   And that’s where Dean needed to see.  The true core of his brother, how he felt, especially how he felt about Dean.  When Sam sang karaoke, those songs always packed a wallop, and Dean knew Sam was always singing straight to him, whether or not Sam knew it. 

Dean had fallen in love with Sam when Sam was only 16.  They hadn’t gotten together as lovers until Sam was 25, and Dean still often wondered if he had pushed his baby brother into something he didn’t really want.  He’d never told Sam how he really felt about him though, too insecure about losing Sam altogether.  Their screwing was really just about release, sometimes comfort.  They weren’t even monogamous until this last year or so. 

It was easier to fight.  Adrenaline, testosterone, angsty brother banter and post hunt garbage, all rolled into beating the shit out of each other followed by fairly primal sex.  Dean shouldn’t and couldn’t ask for more.  He knew he was lucky to have what he did.  But he wanted more.  And until Sam reached out to ask for it, Dean was keeping the status quo.

The bartender returned with their beers, smiling.  “Thank God you’re here for him.  Was afraid he’d drink himself into the bottle there.”  Then did a double take noticing the cut above Dean’s left eye and the also bruised face, and his still blood tinged hands.  “Hey – no trouble in here, got it?”

“Oh yeah, no.  We’re ok, really.  Gonna try to get this one to sing, it’ll be a real show if he does.” 

“I tried to tell him earlier, it’s good for letting go of negative energy.  People seem to be drawn to singing when they’re feeling a bit emotional in here.  That DJ, she bewitches folks, I tell ya.”

Snapping his eyes to the DJ, Dean quickly assessed her.  “Bewitches, you say?  How so?”

“Not sure, man.  Just, people come in here, feeling all strung out or what have you.  Once the first song is sung, it’s like magic.  Those folks end up singing their hearts out and leave feeling much better than when they came in.  Even the atmosphere in here grows lighter, friendlier, more fun.”

“Uh-huh.  She new around here?”  Dean had narrowed his eyes, looking for any hint of something out of sorts.

“No, man.  Allie’s local.  Born and raised.  She just has this aura about her, you know?  People open up.  She should have been a bartender.”  Smiling, he grabbed the boys two fresh beers.

Dean glanced over at Sam, who was fascinated by something on the stage.  His lips were parted, his eyes glazed over, and he was almost leaning into the direction of the DJ.  “Sam?”  Dean snapped his fingers trying to catch his brother’s attention.  “Sammy?”

“Huh?”  Sam’s eyes were twinkling, the microphone was _singing_ to him.  That couldn’t be right – a microphone can’t sing.  He shook his head, shaking off the vision of dancing around on stage again.  “What, Dean?”

“Dude, you were spacing out on me.  You gonna pass out or what?”

“I’m ok, I just.  Can we stay here a while?  I think they are gonna have a show or something.”  Sam’s eyes went back to the microphone, watching as the DJ came out on stage and picked it up.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a show.  Or something.  Sure, sure, we can stay,” replied Dean, as Sam gave him a puzzled glance before refocusing his attention up front.

“Good evening everyone!  Time for karaoke!  Please feel free to sign up over by the DJ table and let me know your song.  To get things started, I’ll sing for you.  My name’s Allie, and I have a feeling I’m not gonna be alone up here for long.”  She pointedly looked at Sam, Dean noticed, as well as a few others in the audience.

When Allie started singing, Dean watched Sam’s reaction.  Sam listened for about a minute, then slowly got up and made his way to the DJ table, signing up to sing.  So did the others the DJ had made eye contact with in the audience. 

If Dean didn’t know better – and he should, he really should, he would swear that Sam was possessed or being sucked into something supernatural.  Truth was, Allie was just very engaging.  Her singing was heartfelt and pure.  She didn’t seem to have anything devious up her sleeves.

When Sam came back, he was just grinning goofily into empty space.  Dean mused, he’s just completely drunk.  Wonder what song he’s got tucked away this time for me?  What emotional drama was going to play out?

“Yo, Sammy.  You gonna be my new solo boy band?  Prance around and be my own personal rock star?”  He knew he shouldn’t poke the bear.  And he just could not help it. 

“Shut up Dean.  I want another shot.”  Sam was nervous and excited.  He was gonna tell Dean.  He was gonna tell Dean through song that he loved him, was in love with him.  But that he was scared.  Sam didn’t know if Dean would pick up on it.  Whenever he sang karaoke, his songs were picked for Dean.  He truly was singing just for Dean, no matter what he played out on stage.  He could truly let go and feel, and sing his heart out, no holds barred.  Everyone thought it was just part of the show, including Dean.  So Sam thought. 

Dean allowed Sam to have not just one, but two more shots before he ordered them another beer.  Then Sam’s name was called. 

Sam approached the stage slowly, and accepted the microphone from DJ Allie.  The microphone seemed to shimmer in his hand.  Yeah, this was the right decision.  He needed Dean to hear it.  And he wanted to say it.  As the music started, Sam quickly started moving in rhythm to the beat.  His V neck shirt was damp already; beads of sweat rolling down his neck, pulling taut across his abs as he moved and gyrated.  His jeans were tight, his perfect ass shaking for the audience.  And he only had eyes for Dean.

_You and I go hard, at each other like we going to war_

_You and I go rough, we keep throwing things and slammin' the door_

_You and I get so, damn dysfunctional we stopped keeping score_

_You and I get sick, yeah I know that we can't do this no more_

 

Dean inhaled a sharp breath and set his beer down. 

 

_But baby there you again, there you again making me love you_

_Yeah I stopped using my head, using my head let it all go_

_Got you stuck on my body, on my body like a tattoo_

_And now I’m feeling stupid, feeling stupid crawling back to you_

_So I cross my heart, and I hope to die, that I'll only stay with you one more night_

_And I know I said it a million times_

_But I’ll only stay with you one more night_

 

On the word tattoo, Sam pulled his shirt to reveal the flaming pentagram they both had done.  Dean reached his hand over his own tattoo, not breaking eye contact with his brother. 

 

_Trying to tell you no, but my body keeps on telling you yes_

_Trying to tell you stop, but your kisses got me so out of breath_

_I'd be waking up, in the morning probably hating myself_

_And I’d be waking up, feeling satisfied but guilty as hell_

 

Dean was having an internal freak out.  What was Sam saying to him?  Dean was making him love him?  He didn’t really want to stay?  Breaking eye contact, Dean looked down at the floor, feeling tears springing to his eyes.

Sam kept singing and dancing, the audience loving every second of his performance.  Dean was hyperventilating.  He was going to lose Sam.  Sam didn’t want what they even had, much less anything more.  Feeling nauseous, Dean stood up to head to the men’s room, when a cool touch landed on his arm.

“Sit.  Really listen to what he is saying to you.”  A pair of ice blue eyes landed on his emerald depths, the DJ’s petite hand almost petting his forearm now.  “You are listening to the words of the song, and not the meaning behind them.”

Dean tried to refocus.  He looked back at Sam, beautiful as ever, his chestnut curls framing his warm hazel eyes.  Eyes looking at him like he hung the moon.  Like Dean was the only person in the room.  The song ended and the crowd erupted in thunderous applause as Sam only stood there, transfixed by Dean.  One more night.  Sam wanted one more night…every night.  He didn’t want to fight anymore.  He wanted more.  Sam was in love with Dean.  And _hey_ , that worked out nicely since Dean had been in love with Sam forever, waiting on his little brother to catch up.

Dean got up and moved towards the stage.  Sam walked down the few steps and before he could say anything, Dean placed his hands on Sam’s hips and pulled him close.  Moving a hand up the back of Sam’s sweaty neck Dean leaned his lips up in an offered kiss.  Sam met him and the kiss was full of tenderness and heat, something new between them kindling a fire that was very different. 

They both pulled away, the fireworks sparking off around them still.  DJ Allie chuckled, making her way back to the stage.  

Both boys stood in a daze, eyeing each other, measuring glances and wondering what came next.

“Dean, I-I don’t want to fight it anymore.”  Sam bit his lower lip and shyly looked at his brother. 

“S’ok, Sammy.  We don’t have to fight it.  I get it.  And I feel the same way.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  Dean leaned in and gave Sam another passionate kiss.  How awesome would make-up sex be when you really loved the person you were with and they loved you back?  Dean was gonna find out.

“Hey Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“I think that microphone is cursed.”

“Nah.”  He looked over and got a wink from DJ Allie.  “Just a little bit of old fashioned magic, little brother.  The good kind.”

  



End file.
